


Letting Go

by princesskay



Category: Smallville
Genre: F/M, First Time, PWP
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-23
Updated: 2014-01-23
Packaged: 2018-01-09 17:53:30
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,497
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1149049
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/princesskay/pseuds/princesskay
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Oliver and Chloe's first time in Watchtower</p>
            </blockquote>





	Letting Go

**Author's Note:**

> This story is based on the episode "Warrior," episode twelve from season nine. The show ends the scene letting you wonder what happened. . .I just picked up where they left off:)

Oliver Queen lined up his shot, narrowing his eyes in concentration as he aimed his bow at the red bulls eye of the target. This time, he thought, I'm not going to miss the mark.  
This thought hardly implied to his shooting, though. It implied to a certain blond women with talents far greater than his and a face that had been keeping him up at night of late. He wasn't quite sure when the feelings had started. Somehow, their connection with Watchtower had grown into a close-knit friendship, that had shockingly evolved into . . . this. He didn't even know what to call it. The only other woman he had ever felt this way about the person in question's cousin.  
Was that ridiculous or what? He was about to do this again within the same family. God, he couldn't control himself at times!  
Oliver let out a deep breath, forcing himself to relax in that moment between aiming and shooting. He needed focus, or he would miss the target altogether. He closed his eyes for a moment, then opened them again. In that split-second of calm, he released the arrow.  
It landed smack-dab in the middle of the bulls eye just as the doors of Watchtower opened and the women of his thoughts entered. Now there was no turning back. 

~

Chloe Sullivan was surprised to find Oliver in her home. She knew she had willingly handed out keys to those closest to her, but she didn't expect them to come-a-calling at such a late hour. Usually, Oliver would be out cleaning up the streets, fueled by his new-found passion for life. . . She, on the other hand, had expected to face yet another lonely night, wondering what her life would be like if she didn't feel so empty inside. She knew she was doing a lot of good through Watchtower, but it didn't seem as gratifying as before. . . Not as meaningful like when she had someone with her to enjoy. God, how she missed Jimmy.   
For a moment, Chloe stood in the doorway as Oliver lowered his bow. She cleared her throat, recovering from the surprise of finding him here, “Slow night?” She asked.   
He smiled at her and lifted a fresh arrow from the quiver sitting on the nearby table, “I figured I'd squeeze in some target practice.” He nodded his head towards the bottle sitting on the coffee table behind him, “And single malt.”   
“Did you bring enough for the rest of the class?” She asked, sliding her coat from her arms. She usually didn't have enough money to buy expensive drinks like Oliver, and she could use the alcohol. She didn't often numb her brain in such a way, but tonight had left her feeling especially down. She had wanted so much to help Alec, a little boy who had gotten in over his head by picking up an enchanted comic about Warrior Angel. In the end, the only thing that had stopped him from tossing her over the edge of the building was Zatanna's curse reversal.   
“Yeah, help yourself, Professor.” He replied as she was already reaching for the bottle.   
Oliver loaded another arrow into his bow. Lifting it, he observed, “Running a little light on allegory tonight. Bumpy day?” He released the arrow, hardly seeming to have aimed it. She silently admired his execution as she took a seat on the couch behind him.   
“Not the smoothest.” She popped the cork of the bottle, “Someone asked me when the last time I had a good time was, and I didn't have an answer.” She poured herself a shot of the single malt, reflecting on the expectant look Alec had gotten on his face as he posed the question. Kids expected everyone to have fun, and she should have realized long ago that they should. Just because she was in the business of saving the world didn't mean she had to be unhappy all the time. She had realized that in her short time with Alec, but now that he was back with his mom, she wondered what would become of her new revelation. She took a deep drink of the alcohol, hoping it would make her relax, maybe forget how good it was to forget everything else and be a child again.   
Oliver pondered her answer for the moment, then turned to look at her, “I don't think anyone can fault you for being on edge, Chloe. I mean, hell, if anyone can relate, its me. I get it.” He faced the target again.   
She laughed, softly, “Yeah, you can.” She wouldn't soon forget how she had brought the team together to pull Oliver out of the gutter. . . and she doubted he would either. Thinking about it now, it was the last act she had done as Watchtower that really made her feel as if she accomplished something. Being the one to decide whether another took his life or not was profound. That was the path Oliver had been on before she had played the Roulette game with him. She was glad her hard work had earned her the result she wanted – a chance to sit down and talk with the real Oliver about how far they had come. . . just like before Lex's murder.   
“You know. . .” He said, raising his bow once more, a smile in his voice, “sometimes you have to take your fun where you can get it.” He let the arrow fly, and picked up another, “And sometimes, its right in front of your face. You just have to want to see it.” He added, more softly. When he turned to look at her this time, she saw something knew in his eyes. Determination, longing. . . desire.  
For some reason, the thought didn't scare her. It didn't make her resist, it didn't set off her alarm system. To her own surprise, she didn't care anymore. She didn't care what other people thought, or how her actions in the next few minutes – or hours – might effect everyone else. Alec had asked her when was the last time she had fun. . . She wouldn't let herself not have an answer again.   
Chloe felt a smile tugging at her lips as he grinned and nodded for her to get up, “Come on.” He said.   
She took one final drink and then slowly and firmly set the glass back on the table. The clank of the glass hitting wood sounded louder in the quiet of Watchtower's expansive dome. She rose from the couch, keeping her gaze steady on Oliver. She knew what was going to happen before she even took the first step in his direction. She knew what he wanted. . . and she finally knew what she wanted.   
He held out the bow for her to take it, and she wrapped her fingers around the grip. It weighed more than she had expected and she quickly hooked her fingers around the string. She could feel him standing behind her, his body nearly touching hers as he reached around her shoulder. He gently took the elbow of her arm that held the string, lifting it into the correct position, his other hand sliding along her opposite arm to hold her wrist steady. Her heart fluttered at the touch of his hands and she gripped the bow tighter. Looking down the sights, she whispered, “How will I know when to let go?”  
“Its all about your heart,” He whispered, his breath warming her ear with each word. “Just listen,” His fingertips skated up along the arm holding the string back, his hand covering hers. She looked down at their hands, warmth sliding through her like liquified flames. The sudden, fierce desire made her draw in a shaky breath, her arm straining to keep the bowstring taut. He stroked the tops of her fingers as he continued, “Right there between the beats. . . That's when you let go.”   
She was sure his advice was true, but they weren't just talking bows and arrows anymore. He was urging her to listen to her heart in this simple, veiled strategy of seduction. . . And how her heart wanted to say yes. . . But could she? Could she let go and forget about the rest of the world? Could she do what was best for her this time instead of others?   
Chloe turned her eyes back to the target. She swallowed and lifted her chin, new determination strengthening her grip on the bow. His hand fell away from hers, the gentle guidance leaving her alone to decide for herself. This was her decision and no one else's. . . He knew that and he knew that she could let him walk out of here empty handed tonight. . . But, she wasn't quite ready to do that.   
Feeling each pump of her heart, each pulsation running through her body, each new desire sprouting within her mind and heart, she let go. Within a split second, the arrow flew from the bow, sailing smoothly through the air to bury itself in the target.   
Chloe and Oliver stood in breathless silence as they watched the arrow's razor sharp point slam into the red middle of the target. She had hit it straight on. But, it wasn't the fact that she had hit the bullseye that quieted them; it was what it symbolized. A silent decision to proceed together in mutual consent. An admission of what they really wanted. A commencement.   
Let the games begin. She thought, already foreseeing where this was going.   
Oliver slowly set the bow down as she turned in his arms. Their eyes met, their breaths mingling in the air between them. For a moment, they said nothing, their eyes searching each others. She could feel her skin warming with desire as she watched his eyes darken in the same reaction. He lifted his hand to cup her cheek, “How did I never see you coming?” He whispered.   
She swallowed, her heart beating her like a drum, “Like you said, “ She replied, her voice quiet, “Sometimes its right in front of your face. . . You just have to want to see it.”   
His lips hinted at a smile, “I'm glad I finally saw.” He murmured, his mouth descending to meet hers. She tentatively tilted her head back, parting her lips in invitation. She didn't know exactly when her defenses had fallen, but it was far too late to erect them once more. She was in deeply now, too deeply to pull back. The desire was overwhelming, breaking her down, like an overload to her computers' system. Her firewalls were obliterated and her secrets were revealed. She was more vulnerable than she could ever remember being.   
His mouth met hers, softly at first, his lips caressing with expert flourish. Her knees immediately went weak, and she leaned hard against the solid wall of his chest. His hands, gripping her waist, gathered the hem of her shirt, slowly lifting it, chafing the smooth material against her skin. His fingertips followed behind, skimming upwards. She lifted her arms and he let the shirt drop to the floor, his hands quickly pulling her back against him. His touch moved too fast for her mind to keep up as he traced the curves of her body, molding her to him, his mouth finding her throat. She groaned, closing her eyes as she let her head fall back, giving him open access. He took her buttocks in his hands, holding her taut against him so that the juncture of her legs cradled his erection straining at his pants. She trembled, her shaking fingers reached between them to pull his shirt open. He stripped it from his arms, nudging them backwards towards where she had made her bed below one of the large, round stain-glass windows. She let him take them back until her legs were hitting the edge of the bed. He took a hold of the zipper of her skirt and pulled it down, relieving her of that garment as well.   
She rose up on her toes to feel the pressure of his mouth against hers again, but he ducked his head away. Before she could protest, he turned her around, putting her back against his chest. His hands rested on her hips, his mouth riding the slope of her shoulder, up to her throat. His tongue tickled her earlobe as he spoke, “This is quite a view, Chloe. . . But, I intend to make it even better.”   
Her heart seemed to skip a beat, her center turning liquid with his words.  
His palm flattened over her stomach, his hand sliding downward to the waistband of her panties. The arousal was so sharp, she struggled to hold back a gasp as his fingers delved beneath the cloth to find her wet and wanting. She grasped for something to hold onto and fell forward to grab the stone edge of the window. With his free hand, he gripped the inside of one thigh and easily lifted her onto the bed, bringing her closer to the window. He came onto the bed behind her, his body pressing firmly against her. The cold stone contrasted sharply to the heat of his body behind her. Keeping his fingertips deeply inserted in her, he pushed her underwear down, out of the way. She kicked them away desperately, planting her knees farther apart, desperate to feel him bring her to completion.   
His fingers were warm and firm, rubbing against her again and again, coaxing consistent, hot gushes of arousal from her. She moaned, gripping the edge of the window as he cupped her womanhood with one broad hand, the other covering her hip. She undulated her hips against his fingers, gasping aloud in surprise and delight, when they sank into her.   
“Oh my God, Oliver. . .” Her heart thudded in her chest making her breathless and weak. Her body ached with the sudden and severe pleasure, and she longed to feel this intimacy rise to higher levels. After weeks of solitude the thought of feeling this – not just the physical part – made her even more desperate.   
“Yes. . .” Oliver murmured, his mouth warming her neck and shoulder, “That's good.”   
She lifted one hand behind her to grip the back of Oliver's neck, her body shuddering with quickly approaching pleasure. Her body sang with his caressing, the breath catching in the back of her throat. She hadn't been with that many men, but she had never felt a man seduce her, arouse her, and make her climax so quickly. She hadn't seen this coming, and with Oliver's allure and experience, she had never stood a chance. . . The fact that that didn't bother her bothered her. What had happened to the suspicious girl that didn't trust anyone, much less let them get this close?   
The hand that had been resting on her hip slid up, his palm riding the curve of her waist, the quivering plane of her stomach, the rise of her ribcage. His hand slowly enveloped her breast through the cup of her bra. He squeezed gently, causing a spike of desire to sear her aroused center even further. Her mouth opened in a strangled whine, her body writhing, as his hand spread out over her breast, his palm pressing especially firm over her nipple. He began moving his hand in slow circle, chafing the material of her bra against the hardened flesh, causing the ache at her core to tighten in the direction of agony. Her fingernails dug into his neck, her body straining for release.  
“Oliver. . .Oliver, please. . .” She moaned, thrusting her hips against his hand to feel his fingers touch her deeply, in the most sensitive place. He willingly obliged, his fingers rising to hold her clitoris between them, stroking it. He pinched gently, then a little harder, causing her to cry out louder.   
“That it. . .” He urged, his palm retreating from her breast to allow his fingers to work. He pulled the strap from her shoulder and his fingers darted beneath the material. They rolled her jutting nipple between them for a moment before the grip grew firmer. Both sets of fingers pinched in sync, back and forth, one after the other, causing the ripples of pleasure to grow even stronger low in her stomach. She couldn't even find the words to describe the pleasure he was bringing her; her responses came out in long, incoherent moans that seemed to have an arousing effect on him. She could feel his cock prodding her through his pants, reminding her that this wasn't the extent of his expertise.   
Suddenly, she was desperate to feel more than his fingers inside of her, and the very thought of making love to him sent her into the throes of orgasm. Her whole body clenched and her shivers of her body evolved into convulsions, her hoarse cries reverberating off the walls of Watchtower. The brick dug into her fingers and she squeezed Oliver's neck while her body squeezed his fingers. She could hear him whispering encouragement into her ear, in a low and sexy voice, but she was so taken by the pleasure that she couldn't quite discern what he was saying.   
By the time the climax had finished ravaging her body, she was panting hard, her heart pounding so hard she thought it would break out of her chest. She let go of Oliver's neck and leaned hard against the wall, forcing her heavy breathing under control. Her body throbbed gently and pleasantly, begging her to stay here with him.   
She hesitated, her fingers curled around the stone edge of the window. She had shied away from getting into sketchy relationships after all the trouble with Clark, the problems with Davis last year, and the loss of Jimmy. . . What if her heart was broken all over again? What if Oliver left her? What if-  
She felt Oliver's hands on her again, his touch beginning on shoulders and sliding down her arms. His mouth touched the back of her neck, his breath warm over her skin, “We've trusted each other for a long time, Chloe, and I know how you think. . . But, this isn't what you think.” His hands brushed over her elbows and fell to her hips. He pulled her back against him, and she felt his skin, hot and hard against her. She held back a gasp. She had been so caught up in her worries she hadn't realized that he had removed his pants.   
“It isn't?” She asked, her tone guarded.   
“No. . . This isn't just a one night stand. Please, let me love you.”  
She closed her eyes. God, how she wanted to give in!  
“Chloe,” He leaned back, and turned her around, cupping her cheek to make her look at him, “Let me love you.” He repeated, softer this time, “I don't want to miss this chance.”   
“What if this chance hurts?” She replied.  
“I promise, it won't.” He said, earnestly, “You've trusted me with your life. . .Trust me with this. . . With your heart.”   
She couldn't deny that she wanted to be with him. But, she had to ensure herself a way out. . .a way to escape in case her heart did get broken again.   
She licked her lips, her heart rate rising with the knowledge that she was about to concede, “What if I just trust you with my body right now?”  
There was a hint of a smile on his lips, “I can work with that.”   
He kissed her again, longer and deeper this time, more meaningfully. She wrapped her arms around his neck and he lowered her to the bed, his body sliding over hers. She parted her legs and wrapped them around his waist, feeling the weight of his stiff manhood rest against her. Desire sparked within her like a blowtorch, once more igniting the flames of desire that had so recently flared within her.  
One hand slithered beneath her, and he deftly opened the clasp of her bra, taking it away with the other hand. Her nipples puckered even harder than before, leaving the flesh jutting and pink. Chloe took in a shuddering breath as he brushed his thumb over one, teasing it to the highest point of erection.   
The palm spread over her back slid up higher to encircle the back of her neck as his head dipped down. When his lips touched the aching flesh of one nipple, she held onto him, one hand at the back of his head, the other gripping his muscular shoulder. A moan rose in her throat, and her legs cinched tighter around his waist. Liquid desire saturated her center almost instantly, making her once more ravenous for him.   
His lips moved expertly over her breast, first dampening it with maddening brushes of his tongue, and then imprisoning the flesh in the hot interior of his mouth. He sucked gently at first, raking shivers of pleasure all over her body, then with more hunger, his mouth devouring the sensitive and stony flesh. She arched against him, moaning as his teeth grazed her nipple. Her nails dug into his skin when his mouth moved to the fresh mound of flesh of her opposite breast. He lapped at it with his tongue, making the hard point of flesh gleam with his saliva, and her body pulsate with desire. His lips closed around it moments later, his hands skimming down the curves of her waist to her hips. He molded his hands over them, one hand sliding beneath her buttock, his fingers touching her wet center. She gasped, her hips jumping up against his, causing his cock to press against her. She shifted her hips to slip him into her, and Oliver eagerly obliged. Fingers holding her open to his entrance, he pushed forward to penetrate her. His cock filled her, thick and throbbing with desire. She groaned loudly, pleasure rippling all over her body with the new sensation.   
Keeping his hold on her hips, Oliver shifted into a deep, rapid rhythm. Chloe clutched him to her, her damp nipples prodding his chest with each thrust. He buried his face in her neck, a muffled groan leaving his lips, “Chloe. . .”  
She gave a soft whimper in response, the sound of him saying her name in such ecstasy driving a warm shudder down her spine. The reaction pooled at her center, swelling her towards completion. Her body squeezed around him, forcing him to push harder to fill her. He stretched her to the aching point, and she moaned, soft whimpers at first, and then louder groans as he drove them closer to the edge.   
“Oliver. . .” She clutched his broad, strong back, “Oh, Oliver. . .”   
He smothered her neck and ear with hot, hungry kisses, his lips eventually reaching her mouth. She opened her mouth as he extended his tongue to kiss her more deeply. As their lips joined, he rolled over, pulling her to the top. She planted her knees in the bed and began to ride him hard, moaning against his mouth as his cock entered her wet, taut body again and again.   
His hands traced the curves of her hips and waist, his palms reaching up to fondle her breasts. She arched her back, pushing her them against his grip, the pleasure there returning. He toyed with nipples, causing her to groan in response, her body shaking and straining to keep her thrusts consistent. A sheen of sweat covered both of them, the exertion growing with each passing second. Chloe squeezed her eyes shut, clenching her jaw as it spiraled through her stomach, swirling into a storm of pleasure, “Oliver. . .” She managed, between gritted teeth.  
“Chloe. . .” His reply was a strained grunt.   
Chloe hadn't expected herself to find the confidence to do so, but just as she felt the orgasm coming, she opened her eyes. This almost perfect union, as if they had been doing so for years, made her want to see his what was in his eyes when it came to an end. When their eyes met, she saw something in his gaze she had never seen before. The time to dwell on it, however, was cut short. The orgasms claimed them both at almost the same moment, their bodies convulsing, and writhing, tangled together in sudden harmony.   
By the time their bodies had ceased to shake and tremble, Chloe felt exhaustion pulling at her. It had already been a long day, and she was in need of sleep. But, the idea of laying down and sleeping like nothing had changed kept her eyes from drifting closed.   
She slowly disentangled herself from Oliver, sitting on the edge of the bed to arrange her thoughts. Where was she supposed to go from here? It wasn't like she just slept around with anyone and went on with her life as if nothing had happened.   
She jumped when she felt Oliver's fingertips touch her back, “Your back is to me. . .That's never a good sign.”   
She closed her eyes for a moment, drawing a deep breath, “I'm sorry. . .I just. . .This was kind of. . . unexpected.”  
He sat up took her by the shoulders, turning her around, “Not for me.”  
“I guess I've just been so caught up with Watchtower” - she motioned to the building surrounding them - “that I didn't notice.”   
“That's kind of why I made the first move. . .I didn't want to wait forever for you to see what I was seeing.”   
“And what are you seeing. . . between us?” She asked, cautiously.  
He hesitated, then shrugged, “You know, this doesn't have to be all dramatic and romantic.”  
“So the part about you. . .” She cleared her throat, “loving me. . . .?”  
“You know me. . .” He laughed, nervously, “I just get caught up. . . in the moment. . . .” His voice trailed off, “If you want to define this as 'friends with benefits' that's fine.”   
Even with his nonchalant attitude, Chloe could tell that he was disappointed. She knew Oliver was a man of action, of passion. He didn't just do something. He did it to the best of his ability and put his whole heart into it. He played for keeps and this wasn't any different. . . .But, she just couldn't go there. She couldn't be hurt again. She would rather sit in this fortress of a building and communicate on the Web than face the reality of real – sometimes painful – relationships. She knew it was wrong, but she had to defend herself. She had lost so many people in her life. She couldn't lose Oliver too. Especially not this way.   
“That's fine.” She said, quietly.   
Oliver nodded, that sad look disappearing behind a mask of desire and playfullness, “So. . .” he said, his hands sliding from her shoulders to her hands. He laced his fingers through hers, nudging her back onto the bed, lifting her arms over her head, “Does that mean my benefits are inexhaustible?”  
“Inexhaustible?” She lifted an eyebrow, “Please, Ollie. . .That's this girl's middle name. Try to keep up.”   
His lips pulled back in a smile, his eyes twinkling, “I'll hold you to your word.” 

the end


End file.
